


October Frost

by pevzivals



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Narnia, modern pevensie au!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pevzivals/pseuds/pevzivals
Summary: It was typical sibling behavior to anyone viewing their small arguments and funny inside jokes. Yet, if you were to ask any one of them about the terms “average” and “Pevensies” in the same sentence, perhaps they would laugh and call you ridiculous for even coming up for such a boring and meaningless idea. For all of them knew that they were much more than “average”, much more than what most people would mistake them for. To them, they were only golden. And for that the universe did agree.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Golden

**Author's Note:**

> for the edmundactics groupchat ily <3 and to hailey for creating the lovely lily pendragon as she is mentioned in this story several times!
> 
> tw// mentions of anxiety, slight cursing, and video game violence!
> 
> (there are probs many typos but its ok)
> 
> enjoy!

To the naked eye and by whichever means a person uses to define, the Pevensie siblings seemed average. They went to school, made friends with whoever they wanted to, went home, fought over the only Wii remote they owned, then went to bed extremely late and full of sugar from every other snack they could find in the pantry. 

The Pevensies were close, like how you’d expect a family of six would be squished in a three bedroom house, and they all presumably did everything together. They rolled their eyes at each other, shoved and pushed each other till they were crying and telling, and they’d most certainly aim for the cheek when running around shooting nerf toys at each other.

It was typical sibling behavior to anyone viewing their small arguments and funny inside jokes. Yet, if you were to ask any one of them about the terms “average” and “Pevensies” in the same sentence, perhaps they would laugh and call you ridiculous for even coming up for such a boring and meaningless idea. For all of them knew that they were much more than “average”, much more than what most people would mistake them for. To them, they were only golden. And for that the universe did agree. 

  
  


-✧-

Peter Pevensie, the eldest sibling, grew up being the most well known among the four of them; inside and outside of school. He wasn’t by any means “popular”, but he was sarcastic and charming in a way that people just found likable. He articulated his words in a way that made him sound clever (to which one of his sisters liked to always clown him for) but not like someone who reads dictionaries or, what he liked to say, “big boring books like Susan”. 

He wasn’t intelligent nor was he one that depended heavily on his academic success, but he was the type of kid to just be knowledgeable and lucky enough to pass all of his classes with flying colors. Peter was all around good in a lot of other things too, things that he should really give himself enough credit for, but one thing he’s always loved, always depended on, has been video games. 

For as long as Peter can remember, he’s been playing on consoles his entire life. From fighting with his siblings for the only wii remote in the house to playing Mario with his dad on his old Nintendo to saving up enough money from his grocery store job to have his very own Playstation. He always carried around his DS or the iconic Game Boy and maybe if he looks in his mom's attic he’ll find his ancient Playstation 2. Yikes. 

Something about it just… understands him way more than anything in life ever has. The way the keyboard feels beneath his fingertips, his heart race quickening as the storyline of a game gets more intense, the fuzzy feeling that grows in his chest whenever he finds a character he can relate to. Gosh, he could do this forever. 

So that's why he is. 

“Cas, where are you?” Peter speaks into his mic, eyes glued to his computer screen. His character finishes drinking a shield potion before he quickly changes to his tactical gun, alert for online players roaming the area. He’d just got separated from his duo soon after an exhausting and terrible build battle. They won, but it left their health in bad shape. 

“I’m here.” Caspian replies, his character roaming back into sight on Peter’s screen. 

Caspian (Cas, to Peter) is this boy he seemed to meet through an awful discord chat a couple years back, when all they could complain about were their high school english teachers and what levels were the hardest for them in the Kingdom Hearts games. He was cool to Peter, someone that could understand him when his brother and sisters didn’t, someone else besides a console. 

They (in their own private chat) decided that it was incredibly necessary to leave the discord server and just stick to themselves (they didn’t have anything in common with the Skyrim players anyway).

Eventually, when they grew up a little bit, Caspian moved to England to attend the same university as Peter where they share the same dorm where they cry about their present english teachers. They’ve been streaming games on their Twitch channels ever since. 

Cas is soft spoken, Peter has learned throughout past facetime calls and present day living room conversations. He talks with precision and heart, like he means every word he says (except, Peter hopes, when Cas is talking about weird trending twitter memes that he doesn’t care to understand). 

They’ve always connected, and I guess Peter is beyond grateful that they have. 

-✧-

Susan Pevensie isn’t quite like her older brother. Sure, she likes to play a couple rounds of Smash on her friends Switch but that doesn’t necessarily mean she thinks it’s what she wants to be doing for the rest of her life. 

Susan is smart and intelligent in ways that nobody around her seems to want to understand. She stays up studying the contents of her history and english books, fingers gracing over the soft illustrations with care. She loves grabbing the biggest books on the library shelves and finishing them within the next 24 hours, ranting to her younger sister about the entire plot and what had made her furious. By no means does reading make you the smartest girl in the room, but Susan was clever and brilliant and different. Every book felt like heaven in her hands, an entire world of knowledge, beauty, and care. 

She used to run home after school, her siblings walking far behind, just so she could steal the living room sofa and read the newest book that was added to their school library. The wind combing through her hair, heaven in her hands, and the entire world awaiting in her head. Everything about storytelling was lovely to her, delicate, but strong.

And maybe that's why when she gets older, she tells herself that she could do this forever.

Susan stands in the office of her publisher, the weird scents of vanilla and new carpet immune to her now, she’s stood here thousands of times. But this time, she's not tired or running on three hours of sleep nor is she chewing on her nails as she hands in another copy for her editor to look over. She’s here instead with an entirely new feeling, one she's never felt before in her life. 

She tries to hide her growing smile and tear filled eyes as she holds her very first published book. It feels heavy in her hands, like she’s holding her entire world; and in a weird, unexplainable sense, she is. Every character she put heart and soul into and the hard and real world she created around them; it’s all little tiny pieces of herself. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Susan says quietly, like if she spoke any louder the entire world would hear her. 

Her publicist smiles and puts a hand over hers. Susan knows that her entire team has worked so hard to make it here, to make this dream a reality. “You don’t need to say anything, it’s already right here.” 

  
  


-✧-

Edmund Pevensie wasn’t shy growing up, in fact he was everything but that. He was loud, obnoxious, and sarcastic as a kid. He fought with his siblings over the only wii remote in the house (and won when he wanted to), hid all the last snacks under his pillow so he can have them for himself later, and most definitely beat the other students to the swing sets during break. He wasn’t harsh, but neither was he the kindest. To put it almost exactly, he was the type of kid to hop into a Poptropica online player chat room and just obliterate them at every mini game while simultaneously doing the equivalent of cursing them out in Poptropica emotes. 

But as he grew older, he grew more mellow. He softened out as a person, became soft spoken but still put up a harsh fight when someone was acting like a total asshole. He wasn’t well known or booksmart like his older siblings, but he was naturally knowledgeable and was perfectly fine relying on the only friend he had (Lillian Pendragon, but Edmund had many other nicknames for her).

Edmund was quiet and sometimes hard to understand, but he had strong morals and knew where he stood in society. And maybe that's why he gets into university to study law. Hell, he fits the characteristics and could put his skills to great use. 

Midway through Freshman year, Edmund thought that this was his life from then on; staying up until 2AM reading about property laws, working a little less than a part-time job at the school's breakfast stand for some extra cash, and ranting about whether or not his paper was written well enough to his dear Lily. 

Then, out of really nowhere, Edmund auditioned for a small band either out of plain boredom or lack of caffeine in his system. His green bass guitar gave him all the personality he needed to show (and the little stickers he’s been adorning it with for the past couple months, of course). 

And nonetheless he made it in on which he thinks is sheer luck. 

Every night since then, he’s been taking life slow, trying his best not to realize how fast time is going. He doesn’t want everything to slip from his grasp and soon enough fall out of reach. He wants to stay here, in this moment, with the band, with his stupid property law papers, and late night talks with Lily. He wants to be able to remember the feeling of his instrument and the small stickers adorning it before he gets stuck in an office or courtroom for the rest of eternity. 

He sits on the lonely wooden bench outside of his dorm room, watching his breath appear then fade away in the october night chill. If only there was some sort of way to stay here in this moment. 

-✧-

Lucy Pevensie is the youngest of the four siblings. Besides her umber colored hair and rapidly growing height, she has not changed much since she was little. From the very start, since the very beginning of her world, she has been only the kindest soul around. Her eyes have always sparkled (Peter always seems to say) in every room she finds herself in, curiosity flowing throughout her entire being. This is where she began her love for drawing. 

At first, the drawings were just assorted colored scribbles with touches of glued on glitter until they eventually became pieces of identifiable detailed paintings of landscapes. She likes to put her entire heart into these pieces, her entire imagination, her entire world. It's almost like how Peter feels about all of his video games or Susan about her favorite books or Edmund about his bass and record collection. Once she feels the movement of her brush over a blank canvas, something ignites in her, something amazing and fantastic that she thinks she’s made up an entire new feeling.

And maybe if she looks through the attic, past all of the boxes containing countless childhood memories, she’ll find the very first pieces of Tumnus. 

Tumnus, a kind and beautiful faun that Lucy had begun drawing when she was little. The idea spoke to her in dreams, almost as if she and the character were bound together by the very strings of fate (or something like that).

He had been a childhood friend to her, Lucy would say. She has sketchbooks filled with Tumnus doing activities like watering his garden or crowning queens of kingdoms or playing a beautiful instrument. 

She sketches with gouache onto her sketchbook the shape of a familiar face. She draws with grace and delicacy, like every line determines the faun’s soul and personality. Her playlist plays in the background, taking up all the quiet space in the house. They’re soft songs, ones that will help take her to the land of wherever Tumnus comes from. 

Lucy smiles as she sets her brush down. 

It’s Tumnus and her meeting at a lit lamp post, snow falling beautifully in the background. 

  
  



	2. Lucy’s Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy couldn’t wrap her head around it, but something has been calling out to her slowly, quietly. She’s fast and loud though, and she’s going to figure out what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again to the edmundactics gc for inspiring me to contribute writing! <3 
> 
> TW // 
> 
> implications & descriptions of anxiety and slight cursing. 
> 
> There are many typos but please ignore them! I’ll be fixing them later! <3 enjoy!

Lucy woke up early this morning with nothing particularly disturbing her. She was asleep a couple of seconds ago, memory of a dream gone, before blinking her sticky eyes open. It was one of those nights, she supposes, where she wakes up and feels like she's been pulled into an entirely different reality. 

The illuminance from her nightlight only stretched so far throughout the room, trapping her in a corner of darkness. Her TV must have shut off in the middle of the night as well as the moonlight having escaped her window. It was just her, the darkness, and the terrifying silence that they cornered her into.

It’s been happening for days now; Lucy will wake up at 4:53AM, mind blank and the feeling of something about to happen on the tip of her heart. Almost like her brain was alerting her and desperately waking her up from her sleep, to look into the darkest corner of her room and try (try so incredibly hard) to find a figure, to hear a voice call out to her quietly, to feel something reach out and hold her cold hands. Yet always nothing would happen and she’d fall unconscious again until the sun’s warmth hits her later in the morning. 

Tonight felt different though, like something was pushing her to investigate further, like her mind had fully awakened and she became aware of the buzzing questions in her head. She slips on her fuzzy slippers and cardigan (that Peter bought her for her 15th birthday, it was a thrift but it was perfect for cold October nights like these) and grabbed her flashlight hidden beneath her bed. Lucy couldn’t wrap her head around it, but something has been calling out to her slowly, quietly. She’s fast and loud though, and she’s going to figure out what it is. 

It’s cold outside, nearly freezing, and the fog made it impossible to see anything in front of her. But she made her way down the street, maybe around the block (she’s lost track), following the feeling on the edge of her heart, beating inside her chest. 

All until… her flashlight died. The moon hid behind the rows of houses and lamp posts seemed to stop working in this part of the neighborhood. It was simply her and the darkness. Again. “C’mon.” She whisper-yells, hitting the flashlight on her palm. “Not now!”

And miraculously, almost unbelievably, at the same time she hits the blank flashlight against her palm, a lamp post across the street blinks. Lucy looks immediately, the street growing dark again. Experimentally, she hits the object against her palm; again and again and again, everytime the lamp post blinking, light growing in brightness. 

She keeps going until eventually, with a hard enough hit, the lamp post (along with her flashlight) turns all the way on. Lucy turns the light off and starts to walk to the lamp post in disbelief, or maybe wonder. Road pebbles crunch beneath her slippers, the only thing she's heard since she's stepped outside. Her heart seemed to race, like it was a metal detector beeping uncontrollably, getting closer to buried coins or nails. 

The lamp post was beside a house, bins left out for the trash later in the morning sitting close beside it. It didn’t look like anything special; no decoration wrapped around it, no magic yellow dust circulating it, no figure awaiting there for Lucy. It was a typical lamp post.

Then her heart began to quicken, more than before that she began to think she might explode, her eyes growing wide. An entire new feeling enveloped her entire self, wrapping around her and suffocating her until it’s the only thing she can ever remember feeling. By the glowing lamp post, at nearly 5AM in the morning, Lucy Pevensie stares into the hard eyes of a discarded wardrobe, fallen sideways on the curb. 

-✧-

“I can’t stand that professor.” Peter says as he drops his statistics textbook onto the table, turning a few heads from others lounging around the coffee shop. He couldn’t care less, though. 

Caspian rolls his eyes and removes his bag, throwing on the other side of the bench. “Maybe don’t major in computer science then?” he replies sarcastically, earning a specific glare from Peter. 

Sometimes they were like this; sitting in the schools really crappy coffee shop, shitting on the major they rightfully chose, and complaining to each other about… well, each other. Caspian will wear his stupid grey sweatshirt and Peter will wear his stupid blue zip up jacket (that will eventually gain a couple stains from carelessly eating sweets from the shop) and they’ll sit at the same table every saturday after their class, just being. 

Peter takes a sip from his coffee. It’s terrible and yucky but it's cheap and he’s sorta getting used to it (again, sorta). “Yeah, but I kinda don’t want this to be my life. Like, forever.” His fingers picking at the cup's sticky label, something he usually ends up doing out of boredom or impulsivity. 

Peter would say he rarely gets like this; all vulnerable and open. Caspian would say Peter always gets like this though. Maybe it’s because he’s always handled it, addressed it but never made it fully go away, be there for someone that has always been there for him. And even when they’re here, in the middle of the crowded and barbaric world, Caspian would listen to Peter’s countless existential thoughts that happen to slip, dive into the blackest abyss and pull him back out, save him a lung or two from drowning or finding himself deep enough to get lost. 

Caspian blinks and stares down at the half ripped label, pieces falling onto the table, slowly and surely, just like every last bit of hope Peter has for something different to happen. “It doesn’t have to be.” Cas says. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be just you. We can sorta face the same miserable world together.” 

Peter cracks a small smile and focuses his attention on something else, such as the smudges on the window bedside them, something he does when he doesn’t want to further the conversation. He grabs his bag and prepares to stand up. “Let’s get home and play Kingdom Hearts. You down?” 

And sometimes, they’re like this. They fall in and out, they catch each other before landing, like wind carrying a leaf gently down, until it lands on its own two feet. They laugh and they play and they carry the feeling of not knowing each other for long but just enough to feel like they’ve slipped into every emotion possible. Maybe something different will happen, something that will change their world for the better, Peter’s world at least. 

-✧-

“Edmund.” 

“Edmund?” 

“Ed, it’s 9:30.” 

Edmund jumps up from his sleep and immediately searches for his phone lost somewhere in his blankets. 

Luca, his roommate and drummer in his “after-school-band” (Lily calls it), stands over Ed’s bed, hands resting in his jacket and shoe tapping annoyingly on the floor. Edmund would say he got lucky when he was paired up with the mysterious and quiet Luca to be dorm buddies. I mean, he does the dishes, the laundry, listens to music that Edmund also very much likes, and isn’t distracting or loud on school nights. Everything you need in a roomie, right? 

Well, not exactly. Sometimes Edmund would say that Luca is too quiet, like, suspiciously quiet, like, “I know you’re there, but I’m not going to talk to you for three days and wear my headphones every time you see me. Maybe forget what my voice sounds like? I don’t know” quiet. It freaks Edmund the hell out sometimes.

Like when Luca is waking him up at 9:30AM not to tell stressed Edmund that he’s an hour late for class, but to ask “Think you can go grocery shopping today? Like, after classes?”

Edmund squints up at him, still trying to pry his eyes all the way open. He furrows his eyebrows and throws his hands up. “Uhm,” he scratches his head, black pieces of hair sticking up in different directions. “Yeah. Sure.”

Luca nods and offers him a thin lipped smile. “Thanks.” He says, walking off. 

Edmund sits a little puzzled, a little out of it until his phone vibrates in his hand, his 9:40AM alarm blaring throughout the room. His eyes widen and he nearly dives out of bed, throwing on the closest jacket (one that adorns the university’s logo, one that Edmund thinks is collectively cool and a bit jerk-ish) and grabbing his bag.

“You’re late by the way.” Luca says behind the kitchen counter, munching on a granola bar or something. 

Edmund squints evilly. “Yeah I am. Thanks for noticing.” He says sarcastically before walking out of the dorm. 

And as if anything couldn’t waste his time more, his phone begins to ring loudly, echoing across campus. He pulls out his phone and rolls his eyes as he answers it, speed walking to his building. 

“Lucy, what is it?” 

It’s silent for a moment which causes Edmund to furrow his eyes brows and look at the phone to make sure he’s still on call.

“Lucy?-”

“Is there any way for you to visit today?” She asks. Her voice was different, Edmund can’t explain it, but it didn’t have that curious and young feature to it. 

Confusion hits him once again, the only thing besides anger that he’s felt today. “Why?” 

“I’ve found something.” She says, whispering. 

Edmund sighs, side eyeing his building beside him. “Lucy, I don’t have time for this.” Really, what were they, 6 years old?

“No, I mean I found something special and I need your help to come get it.” 

He squints and covers his eyes with one hand. “Come get it? What exactly- no, Lucy. I've got to go. Call your friends or Susan or someone else. Sorry, but we’ll talk later.” 

He hangs up his phone and pockets it, running into the school's building hoping the embarrassment from walking in late won’t be as huge as he assumes. 

-✧-

“A sequel?” Clara asks, looking through Susan’s ideas and notes. She held the notes loosely, like the pages from Susan’s soul and heart could just slip and float away. 

Clara was a close friend of Susan’s, especially after constantly meeting up with her over lunch to discuss critiques and new thoughts to the book Susan was writing. At first glance you’d assume she’d be an uptight English major or someone who doesn’t want their time wasted. But she was neither and she was nothing but determined to help Susan publish this book. 

“I think it’s a good idea since I want consistency in my work.” She replies, tapping her finger nervously on the table. 

Clara takes a sip from her coffee and leans back in the café's wooden chair, nodding as she looks over the papers. “Why not, right?” She says as she sets the papers down on the table, looking Susan in the eyes. “I think your works deserve the recognition and publishing that they’ve been getting. It’s actually a great idea.” 

Susan lets out a relieved sigh. The feeling of holding her very first book for the first time was like seeing the most beautiful place in the entire world. Almost like the book was the Eiffel Tower or a soft meadow with billions of assorted colored flowers and her heart was a traveler yearning to see it, to feel it. She wants that spark back. She wants the most beautiful place back in the palms of her hands. 

“I’m relieved to hear that.” She smiles. 

Clara shrugs and reaches for her coffee cup again, long black hair falling off of her shoulders. “I mean, this team is incredibly happy to continue publishing your books. You’ve already made 200 sales this week from your sponsors website alone. I think we’ve got something to look forward to, Susan.” 

“That’s incredibly-” Susan becomes cut off by the sound of her phone vibrating on the wooden table. Picking it up, she furrows her eyebrows in confusion. Lucy was calling, which isn’t a strange occurance, but something she hasn’t received from her younger sister in a long time. 

She looks up at Clara, excusing herself and walking out of the café.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Susan! I’m so happy you picked up.” Lucy says from behind the phone. Susan smiles to herself, missing her already.

“Yeah, is there anything you need though? I didn’t expect you to-”

“I need your help, actually.” She says. Her voice changing tone, something Susan hasn’t heard since they were young and running around playing imaginary games. Susan becomes concerned, more focused on Lucy.

“Is there something wrong?”

Lucy shuffles something on the other end. “Yeah,” she laughs a bit, like what she’s about to ask is a little absurd. “I actually need your help picking something up for me.”

Susan becomes instantly confused. “Picking something up?”

“Well, there's this really pretty wardrobe on the curbside the next street over and I really need your help getting it home.” Lucy says.

Susan sighs. “Why not ask dad? He’s got a truck and it’ll be a hassle getting it into my car.” 

Susan can imagine it now; her and Lucy trying with all their might to lift a 300 pound wardrobe into her tiny car. She could laugh if she wanted to.

“I don’t want dad knowing about the wardrobe.” 

Susan scoffs. Typical. “What about Peter or Edmund? They can borrow dad's truck or something.” 

“Ive already tried,” she huffs. “Peter won’t pick up the phone and Edmund hung up on me. So I called you. And not because Edmund told me to!”

Susan doesn’t really know what to do with this. The only thing that’s been on her mind recently has been her book, leaving her little bubble sounds like stepping into the deepest part of a pool. But, she should probably take a trip up there anyway to check on her parents, and maybe hurt her back trying to lift a wardrobe into the back of a truck. 

“Okay.” Susan sighs, heading back inside the coffee shop. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter : 49EDMUND


End file.
